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Ames Clerke
A cacaphony filled the night, screams and the cawing of crows. As the soldiers lay dying upon the bloodstained grass, they gazed upward. Stars flickered, though their failing eyes could not distinguish the avian forms circling above them, obstructing the starlight. One lone soldier looked to his left, his comrade-in-arms lay there, unmoving but for the involuntary twitches as the crow pecked at his face. The soldier had no strength to discourage the bird, so he merely watched. With what seemed to his dying brain as caring and precision, the crow snapped up the choicest pieces of his friend's face. A low caw met his ears, and he blinked in disbelief as the crow drew a long smoky sinew of blue material from the fallen man's cranium. Holding this prize tenderly in it's beak, the crow took flight. The lone soldier followed it's progress, leaving a blue trail across the night sky. The trail ended sharply, the crow settling upon a figure standing nearby. The soldier had the absurd notion that the crow was communicating with this figure. It hurt too much to laugh, but he chuckled anyway. As preposterous as it was, the crow-adorned figure turned and began to walk towards the lone soldier. The moonlight illuminated his elaborate suit of plate armour, emblazoned with the forms of crow and feather. Strange wisps of ethereal blue substance issued forth from his helm as he stood at the lone soldier's side. The Knight of Crows halted, towering above the lone soldier, he paused. A sudden flight of crows exploded into the night sky some way off, crying out. The knight appeared at their side, his hand upon an immense blade, crafted in the likeness of a feather. The lone soldier could barely make out the disturbance amongst the airborne flock of birds. A dying man, desperate to live, had grabbed a crow with both hands. He was tearing at it, cursing it, calling it a filthy scavenger, sower of suffering, reaper's minion. His shrieks degenerated into incoherency as he brought his hands to the captive crow's neck. The Knight of Crows extended his sword over the ranting man's chest. The man gazed up, seeing neither sword nor knight, only the stars and the rapidly swirling flock of crows. He made to sharply twist the crow's neck, but found himself unwilling to do so. Suddenly lacking conviction, his thoughts turned to his family, his home, and peace. He couldn't see the greatsword protruding from his sternum, but the lone soldier could. And the lone soldier could see the Knight of Crows rising once again, his sword untarnished, no blood dripped from its blade. And the Knight of Crows was by his side once again. The soldier tried to sit up, but his body wouldn't obey him. He stared pleadingly at the knight, hand reaching outward. To his surprise, a gauntlet grasped his wrist and pulled him upright. The crow upon his shoulder gave a low melodic caw, and then the lone soldier was no more. Life Ames is the Guard Captain for Port Paunell. Blackbeak His bird Blackbeak comes in weighing a little over a pound and a little over a foot in length he is about the size of an average crow. His feathers have an excellent luster to them. His beady bird eyes hide the unnatural intelligence that has been bestowed upon him. The bird is often seen hopping around with a pencil and scraps of paper.